


Silver Earrings

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: Boutique [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Worship, F/M, Insecurity, Light Praise Kink, Mementos (mentioned), Phantom Thief!Reader, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: Yusuke is stuck in an artist’s rut.So when he asks you to be his muse, to model for him, you can’t turn him down.He is determined to bring out the “you” he sees slumbering within.The “you” who he sees as nothing but beauty itself; the “you” that is perfection in his eyes.





	Silver Earrings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing the eccentric and amazing artist himself: Yusuke Kitagawa.
> 
> To say that I am incredibly nervous right now is a severe understatement.
> 
> I hope that I haven’t butchered his character.
> 
> This little musing is dedicated to all of the Yusuke fans out there! Please enjoy.
> 
> This takes place shortly after Kaneshiro’s Palace.

“Are you almost finished, Yusuke?”

You try your best to avoid letting your frustration show in the form of frowns, pursed lips, a tense jaw, narrow eyes or furrowed brows. If there is anything that can be said about your eccentric and artistic boyfriend, Yusuke Kitagawa, it’s that he pursues nothing but beauty when it comes to stroking his pencils or paintbrushes across his canvas.

You love him with all of your heart, you truly do, but you feel that he is a bit _too _hard on himself while being overly critical of others who criticize his art.

Quietly, you admit that if you ever find yourself in his shoes, you will be just as judgmental of both your skills as an artist and, worse, those who eye your works with disdain and hiss cruel remarks under their breath.

However, such a thing will never happen. Not in this life, anyway.

It’s become something of a shared joke between you and your fellow Phantom Thief, Ann Takamaki, that your skills as an artist leave something to be desired. You aren’t terrible at drawing, painting, or sculpting, but you are certainly no modern-day reincarnation of Picasso or Michelangelo.

You have been sitting in this godforsaken chair for so long, your ass and back are starting to feel sore. The wooden chair squeaks as you shift, trying to make yourself comfortable as you remain as you are: sitting with your back straight, eyes pointed forward, and hands neatly folded in your lap.

Your bare and _naked _lap.

To say you were taken aback when Yusuke asked you to be his muse for a _“personal painting” _will be the understatement of the century, and that is being generous.

You were surprised when he added a stipulation: to model for him as bare as the day you were born.

Were you shocked? Yes, of course. Did you feel outraged? At the time you did, but whatever irate feelings you had had moments ago slowly but surely washed away, replaced by feelings of embarrassment and appreciation.

Deep down inside, you quietly rejoiced at the suggestion. It was just an added bonus that you were touched by Yusuke’s earnest words and honest expression.

Honestly, a part of you felt—and still _does _feel_—_flattered whenever you recall what he told you when you expressed your uncertainty.

You remember pursing your lips and furrowing your brows.

You remember the doubt pricking at the back of your mind as you raise a hand, twirling a strand of hair as you look away from your boyfriend, blinking as an all too familiar feeling made itself known.

Insecurity.

You don’t have high self-esteem, and that only fuels the negative thoughts and feelings whenever you happen to find yourself standing in front of the mirror in your room.

Growing up, you read fashion magazines, spending hours locked in your room and glaring down at the models who were nothing short of angels and goddesses.

Soon, you’d find yourself standing in front of the mirror, half-dressed or barely clothed or, if you felt particularly bold, full-on nude. You’d purse your lips, pointing a pair of angry, trembling, and tear-filled eyes on yourself. Your mirror self copied your displeased visage perfectly—from your eyes that shined with tears to your cheeks, burning pink in anger and humiliation. You’d mentally zero in on and point out all of the physical flaws you saw.

Your shoulders looked too manly. Your stomach looked to be a bit bloated, causing you to mentally curse the baby fat that still lingered; it stubbornly refused to go away, no matter how much you exercised or trained with your friends in the Metaverse. Your legs were fat and misshapen, and your hands and feet didn’t appear to compliment your body; your boobs may as well be lopsided to your critical, eagle-eyed glower.

You are thankful that he gave you time to think his proposition over; eccentric artist or not, he can be an utter gentleman when the moment counts.

However, you can’t help but smile to yourself. You remember all too well how overjoyed he looked _and _sounded when you approached him after school the following week, agreeing to his offer.

When you voiced your concerns to Yusuke the previous day, Saturday, enjoying the lakeside view at Inokashira Park, you were treated to a front row seat of his surprise, confusion, and frankly, his insulted stare. Instantly, you were hit with a big-time dose of worry. You silently wondered if you upset him…

“_Nonsense, my beautiful muse. You are picturesque; you are a butterfly after emerging from its chrysalis, fluttering in the morning sun.”_

“_Y-You think so?”_

You remember the feeling of heat rising from your neck, travelling north to shamelessly touch your cheeks with a hint of rose pink. You remember how Yusuke had laughed and raised his hands, peering at you through his fingers held together in a way that was all too familiar.

To polish everything off, you recall the spark that lit up his cobalt blue eyes; the gleam that touched his irises and made his face glow. It was the look of an artist feeling inspired, feeling the itch to draw and to paint.

“_Such a tranquil sight mustn’t be allowed to wither_…_ I will not stop until I have captured you in the most ideal form, the perfect pose! The epiphany of your beauty must be preserved! If you will allow me to and should you have no plans for later, may we continue this elsewhere?”_

In the here and now you are deeply thankful that your leader, Joker, has decided that today isn’t a good day to dive into the depths of Mementos.

The group’s progress into the otherworldly labyrinth is going at a fairly decent pace, a new member—Makoto Niijima, AKA Queen—has been welcomed into the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and all you have to do now is wait for confirmation of a mafia boss, Junya Kaneshiro, having a change of heart. Redeeming the heart of a criminal that even the police can’t catch _and _having him confess his crimes with his own mouth—if that doesn’t help convince the public to believe in the Phantom Thieves, you aren’t sure what will change their minds.

For all of your and your friends’ hard work, life is officially giving everyone the go-ahead to relax and slack off a bit.

A sigh pulls you from your musings and you watch as Yusuke sets his paintbrush down; it hits the palette with a soft clatter.

“Yusuke, is everything alright…?”

You quirk a brow, confused, watching your boyfriend as he fails to answer your question or even acknowledge you at all. Ordinarily, you’d feel worried or upset if it was one of your friends who isn’t answering you, and not Yusuke.

_But then again, this _is _Yusuke Kitagawa we’re talking about, _you think, breathing a silent sigh.

“Um…”

You hesitate, blinking slowly as you lick your lips to give them proper moisture.

Slowly, carefully you speak, hesitation colouring your words as they leave your lips.

“I hate to ask you again, but are you done? It’s just getting a bit uncomfortable, sitting here for so long.”

“I apologize, but… It’s not right.”

A hum tickles the back of your throat and you tilt your head slightly, puzzled; you feel the silver earrings you’re wearing brushing against the skin of your neck.

“I’m sorry? I’m not following you.”

Then it occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, _you’re _the problem here.

You begin to think that you’re the reason why Yusuke isn’t feeling the inspiration to draw anymore.

And you can’t help but curse yourself for not being gifted with physical beauty.

“Why do you think you’re at fault? I told you that you are picturesque, did I not?”

You swallow, nervous, as the telltale sensation of heat burning your cheeks returns to haunt you. You hadn’t meant to voice your insecure thoughts aloud.

Time seems to crawl to a standstill as your eyes keep staring into Yusuke’s cobalt blue gaze, and you can’t help but silently marvel at how the moonlight gives his eyes a lovely shine. For a moment and only a moment, you can swear that they look _almost _silver blue, but then his voice yanks you from your silent admiration.

“Forgive me, but…”

The stool he’s sitting in creaks as he gets up, the soles of his shoes clicking over the wooden floor as he approaches you. You bump up your chin, raising your eyes so that you can watch him more properly. You eye the way his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down as he gulps, and it takes everything you have not to raise a hand and trail your fingers down his throat.

You watch as he stoops down, blue hair brushing against his cheekbones as he raises a hand, then stops before it gets the chance to brush across the curve of your jaw.

“Yusuke…?”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Eh?!”

The blush dusting your cheeks flares anew, and you’re almost sure your face resembles a hue that reminds your boyfriend of red roses.

“Is this how my mother felt as she drew the Sayuri? It is hard to properly describe it; I cannot put my thoughts or feelings into words. You’re just… so wonderful. You are a real-life vision of elegance. Are you certain you are not an angel sent by God, to judge a mortal like myself?”

Forget red roses, you _know _your face is the colour of blood right now.

“Or perhaps…”

Yusuke leans in a bit closer and you instinctively draw in a slow, shaky breath at the action. You take in the scent of medicinal herbs as you do so, courtesy of the bath he and the boys, Akira and Ryuji, indulged in at the bathhouse in Yongen-Jaya recently.

You feel his breath wafting on your face as he smiles gently, his cobalt eyes full of warmth and affection.

“You are a succubus sent by the Devil to tempt me with an offer, all while holding a forbidden fruit in your hands? Honestly… Hell would not be so bad to me, so long as I have you by my side for eternity.”

You have to hand it to him—he does have a certain eloquence when he wishes to heap praise on you.

It is what he says next that truly takes you aback. It is what he asks you, all while staring you in the face, that honestly causes your heart to flutter and your skin to flush with a new sense of heat.

“May I… Do I have permission to touch you?”

Strangely, you don’t hesitate; you blink once, slowly, before nodding.

“Of course,” you say, polishing off with what you hope is a sultry little coo that edges your voice.

He chuckles and smiles, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly.

“You have my thanks, my beautiful muse.”

You quietly wonder if you’ll ever get tired of hearing him calling you that—but the sensation of long, faintly masculine fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw stops any further thoughts from crossing your mind.

You take in a slow and careful breath, calmly and repeatedly telling yourself in your mind that you’re fine and that you can handle this.

You watch, your eyes never leaving Yusuke’s cobalt blue gaze—the same irises that you _swear _up and down are tinged with silver as he’s standing in the moonlight—as he brushes the tips of his fingers up to your cheekbone.

Slowly, carefully, those very same fingers trail a path along the curve of your cheek, tracing a circle into your skin.

“How astounding… Your skin is very soft.”

You feel a fresh hit of shyness wash over you, showing in the form of a blush gently highlighting your cheeks.

“T-Thank you…”

You mentally curse the stutter that laces your voice, but Yusuke doesn’t seem to notice. He seems to be more focused on mapping out your body. Occasionally, you catch a mutter or a whisper as his fingers familiarize the feeling of your skin underneath his hands.

“Beautiful…”

His fingers trail the curve of your face, committing the feeling of your skin and hair against his hand to memory.

“To think that a person’s skin can feel so marvellous…”

He stops to roll a thumb over the flesh of your lips, and you watch—quietly, curious—how he gently bites on his mouth with the blunt edge of his teeth.

And you can’t help but blush at the thought of him kissing you. You wonder how long it’s been since his lips have pressed against yours.

_Too long! _you hiss silently, ignoring a stray bead of sweat trailing down your cheek.

“I wonder… If I may do so…”

“Y-Yes?”

His hands have returned to cup your cheeks now, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the skin as his eyes stare intently into your wide, shining doe-like irises.

“May I be a bit more… curious about your body, my love?”

**Author's Note:**

> As is the case with _Heart Necklace_, the good stuff will happen in the next chapter.
> 
> Until then: stay thirsty, my dears.
> 
> Barista out.


End file.
